Postman Pat stalked by aliens?

My wine has arrived from St Emilion. If ever there was a saint who should be exulted above all others then it is he. (I assume he was a he?). As I write I am looking at 4 cases of his finest produce sitting in the living room awaiting the purchase of a new wine rack.

Today I shall be having a late breakfast with Currencies Direct Mr Clipbeard who has some excess Saturday tickets to the Goodwood Retro Festival which starts today. Already I have spotted a number of classic old cars in the area, and some classic old chaps and it seems there will be many more descending on us as the weekend gets underway. Any suggestion that I include Mr Clipbeard amongst the old chaps reliving their youth is entirely accurate.

Talking of classics, I came across this figure of Postman Pat outside a shop in Arundel recently. I had planned to make some facetious comments about having a nose around but when I looked at the photo more closely I discovered a similarly attired figure in the background. What is this all about? is this figure some kind of alien postal service representative? At least they had the decency to hide the beak under a hat unlike Pat whose nose is naked for all to see. Of course if he had no nose, how would he smell? The Reverend Jeff will be unable to resist this one.

Kids, look away now, who is that on the left?

Yesterday, a lovely sunny day incidentally, obviously a cruel trick to persuade me that winter in the UK will be acceptable, persuaded us to go cycling. That and the continuing cacophony of the kangol that is gradually reducing our house to a pile of debris. As I write I am sitting in front of a very old inglenook fireplace which until yesterday was covered by a modern monstrosity. I am also covered in dust and there is debris all around, in fact the pile of hard-core in the yard is probably visible from outer space with the naked eye. All is well though as that nice lady decorator has announced that she is happy with the results And more importantly because she was right.

We went in search of the so called Centurion Way, a cycle track that it was said ran along the route of a disused railway. It did not, it ran alongside a main road so we decided to go to Bognor Regis to cycle along the promenade. I know the name Bognor does not summon up images of the promenade at Nice or Cannes with their wonderful beaches and breathtaking backdrop of the Pre Alps, it having more a background of seedy fish and chip parlours, but given the sunshine and given that it is a wide expanse of flat concrete we thought we could try to imagine being in the south of France. We set off only to find that cycling is not allowed on the Promenade. A tourist train towed by a tractor is allowed but no bikes. I am sorry I do not understand. Perhaps there is a conspiracy here to keep people fat? Allow nothing but fish and chips, pasties or burgers to be sold on the sea front and then discouraging people from exercise? A farce.

We did not stay. Instead we went for a couple of pints at the Murrell Arms in Barnham to moan. However, just along the road was a cycle track heading back to Bognor but I was full of London Pride and a jacket potato with chilli con carne (no sumptuous menu at Auberge St Donat available) so did not enjoy the 10 mile ride as much as might have before lunch